


Permanent Ink

by Kylohhh



Series: 1001 Knights [1]
Category: Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Memory Loss, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-06-06 06:10:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15188507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kylohhh/pseuds/Kylohhh
Summary: Ben wakes up with a stranger in his bed and a wedding band tattoo he doesn't remember getting.





	Permanent Ink

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Permanent Changes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14717153) by [JustAnotherSailorScout](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAnotherSailorScout/pseuds/JustAnotherSailorScout). 



> I couldn’t sleep, so I wrote this ficlet instead. In this universe soulmates are real, but rare. Any markings, scars, tattoos, etc on your skin also appear on your soulmate. This was originally posted on Tumblr, (@kylohhh). Let me know what you think.

Ben woke up to the sound of an ambulance in the distance drilling into his skull. His tongue felt too big in his mouth, and his stomach roiled at the lingering taste of stale smoke. He’d given up the habit eight years ago and only picked it up again when he was well and truly plastered. Prying his eyes open, he squinted in the harsh glare of the morning sunlight streaming into the apartment. A trail of clothes started at the door, where he’d stripped on his way to unconsciousness.

From his position on the bed, his eyes followed the clothes dotting the living room and kitchen languidly. His eyes snapped back to the bra hanging off of a bar stool and he was thrust into cold sobriety once again. He slowly turned his head to the other side of the bed. Thick, dark hair splayed across the pillow. He was fucked. It was bad enough to not know a girl’s name when you woke up next to her, but it was cosmically fucked up to not remember anything about the previous night, up to and including meeting her.

Head swimming through hazy memories of the night before, he reached to run his hand through his hair. He froze with his hand halfway to his face. He rotated his hand, face still frozen in horrified fascination. He dove into the en suite, regardless of the other occupant of his California king size bed. Using the brush leftover from the days he scrubbed motor oil and grease from under his nails, he frantically scraped at his hand. After what seemed like hours, he held up his hand now pink and raw from the effort. There it was, just as dark as before. A delicately tattooed band looped around his ring finger.

Swallowing thickly, he realized that he had an audience. A beautiful woman with skin that glowed a dark umber fumed from the doorway as she righted her floor length white dress and gathered her hair back into a bun. Stomping into the living room, she threw her keys in her clutch. He was spurred to action by the need to know just how badly he fucked up.

“Wait! Stop. I, uh, I’m sorry for anything I did last night, but can you please tell me what the hell happened?” He gestured to the new ink on his hand.

“What happened? What happened?” she repeated shrilly. “What happened is that I nearly slept with a married man. You were too drunk to do the job last night and now you are too hungover to remember it! You almost made me the other woman, you bastard!”

“You mean we didn’t, we aren’t?” He was breathing hard and had no idea what he was saying, gesturing with his hand vaguely.

“No, nothing happened and nothing will ever happen! I hope your wife gets everything when she leaves your ass!” With that, she slammed the door closed behind her.

He was still missing how the tattoo came into play. With a groan, he picked up his phone. There was only one person who would be able to fill him in, but he was never going to live this down.

***

“For the last time Kylo, you drank too much, sang terrible My Chemical Romance songs at karaoke, and then you and Tiffany took a cab back to your place. No tattoos, no other women.” Hux found that the situation lost its hilarity somewhere between the fifth and sixth retelling.

“Then how the hell did I go to sleep without a tattoo and wake up with one?” Ben demanded.

“Wait, he woke up with an inexplicable tattoo? One he didn't get? Does he ever get bruises and marks he can't explain? Scars from injuries he never had?"

He ran the edge of his thumb down the line of raised skin that slashed across his calf. He had no memory of the gash that surely would have required stitches, but he had chalked it up to one of the reckless stunts he pulled as a teenager. It wasn't as if he could ask his mother about it these days. The more he thought about it, a litany of unascribable nicks and bumps he collected over the years filtered to the surface of his mind. A gawky, lanky teenager, he thought he had been particularly clumsy.

Ben grunted the affirmative. 

"Don’t tell me that moron has a soulmate!” Phasma huffed in the background. Unwilling to acknowledge the weight of her assertion, he found himself hyperfocused on why she was speaking, rather than what she was saying. The cogs slowly turned in Ben's head. Phasma. On the phone. With Hux. Hux and Phasma. 

“Jesus Christ! Are you two in bed together?” Ben wanted to dry heave at the thought.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Kylo,” Hux drawled. “We met for brunch. Would have invited you too, only it seemed like you would need a bit of a lie-in. You’re the only one who made stupid decisions last night. She’s right though, it does sound like the stories you hear about soulmates. Wait, what did you say the tattoo was again?”

“A wedding band,” he whispered.


End file.
